Amnesia: Mechanism of Despair
by Morturtle
Summary: SYOC! Submit a character to Brennenburg Castle: not the best place to be. Watch them struggle to survive, and root for them even when they realize that seeing the light of day again is unlikely. The Shadow is lurking, and all will suffer... Submit!
1. The Prologue: Ramblings of a Psychopath

The cell was dark, but Zona Normann had grown used to darkness.

She was waiting, and though she tried to calm her nerves, they would not be calmed. Anxiously, she tapped one bare foot against grimy stone, and when the repetitive motion began to irritate her, she switched to the other foot. Her dirty blonde hair (and it was truly more dirty now than it ever had been before) hung limply around her pale face, and her eyes were cool and clear, the color blue that brought to one's mind images of frigid lakes in December.

She was not wearing any skirts. She had not been wearing them when the strange disfigured men had brought her in. That was what she'd been accused of, actually; thievery on account of the male clothing, suited for running. She did not defend herself against the accusation. The only thing she had come to see was the torture; material things did not interest her. The human body, on the other hand, was really quite fascinating.

She was going to request, when they came for her (which they inevitably would) that they would cut her open while she was still alive. If she couldn't be a spectator who got away in the end, then it would be nice to look at her own internal structures. It would be a fitting end, Zona thought. Suitable for one such as herself, a woman who had spent the last two years on her own bloody quest for knowledge.

"Tick, tock," she muttered, drumming her dirty fingers against rusty metal bars that kept her locked away. "I am growing tired of this waiting business."

Nobody came. She'd been stuffed in a cell block all to herself, although she could still hear the screams emanating from strategic places in the building. Well, she was ready for that kind of a challenge. She thought that it would be interesting to time herself, to see how long it would be before she succumbed to the pain. It would happen eventually; Zona was only human.

But there was no need for thinking like that yet. Not when nobody was coming.

She stood; stretching aching limbs, and strode back to the cramped cot she had been provided with. It was not much, but she had never provided her own prisoners with cots. They were lucky if they got water. She grinned ruefully and rubbed her hair; those had been good days. Now, her life had been turned around. She was the prisoner, and the torture would go to her.

Well, she deserved it, very much. If this was to be her repentance, she welcomed it with open arms.

All that had to happen now was the fun to start.

* * *

**Hey, guys! The story has already started, but that doesn't mean I'm done accepting OCs. I will accept sixteen main OCs (eight of which I now have) and eight secondary OCs. Anyone else I get will be a minor OC, so your character is guaranteed to at least have an appearance in the story.**

**I do have a couple of submission guidelines, though. Just for the record. Firstly, please give me characters of all ages, genders, races, etc. Be creative! Secondly, be creative more! Creativity rocks! Thirdly, you can submit as many characters as you want. Amnesia doesn't seem to be a popular fandom (which stinks, because the game rocks) so I doubt I'll get too many characters that it becomes confusing. We'll see. Lastly, the story has started now, so be sure to read it and understand what's going on before you submit. The submission has to make sense with the plot, after all!**

**Here's the form. Enjoy and submit!**

**Name: (What do they call themselves? What's their full name?)**

**Age: (This one is fairly obvious)**

**Gender: (This is also fairly obvious.)**

**Hometown: (Where were they born?)**

**Appearance: (What do they look like?)**

**Personality: (What do they act like?)**

**Strengths: (What are they good at doing that might save their ass?)**

**Weaknesses: (What are they bad at doing that might get them totally screwed?)**

**History: (How's their life been so far?)**

**Family: (Tell me about 'em)**

**Friends: (I'd like to know them, too!)**

**Why Are They Here? (Why are they at Brennenburg? Did they get accused of something? Did they come exploring and get nabbed? DID THEY BREAK IN LIKE A N00B? Explain, please.)**

**Strategy: (They don't want to die... right? Right. So what are they planning to do in order to get out of this wacky place?)**

**Insanity: (How badly would they react, if... say... a Shadow kept on engulfing them? Basically, just say how badly the Shadow affects them, if at all.)**

**Death: (Do you mind if they die?)**

**Stuff: (What do they have with them? Remember, anything deemed too dangerous by the Gatherers probably would've been confiscated. Unless they were hiding it cleverly...)**

**Romance: (Can they find romance?)**

**Other: (Anything you'd like to include?)**

**That's all for now. Submit, guys, and watch your characters die horribly- ahem. I mean, watch all your characters survive the story! Because that will totally happen! Characters are accepted by both review and PM, so do whichever one comes more naturally.**

**Here, for reference, is a list of characters.**

**Main OCs**

**Riley Nicole D'Aubigne**

**Ezekiel Hanns**

**Lizabeth Rane Rousland**

**Kalen Rider**

**Colonel Jack Remarc**

**Damaris Fatetin**

**Jack "Raptor" Williams**

**Merrick Louis Taylor**

**Forgetful**

**Arrianna Rose Dixon**

**Alexandria Adelaide**


	2. The Beginnings: Escape is Key

**Hey, readers! This chapter will serve as one of two somewhat introductory chapters, where we learn about our characters. Riley, Ezekiel, Rane, and Kalen are featured in this chapter. Next chapter, Jack, Damaris, Raptor, and Erik will be focused on. After that, I'll have introductory sections for any new characters I get, but the rest of the chapter will be more focused on the plot, and the order of appearances will be random.**

**Hope you guys enjoy! All ideas, criticisms, thoughts and likes/dislikes are appreciated!**

**Also... DISCLAIMER. I DON'T OWN AMNESIA: THE DARK DESCENT. WISH I DID.**

**Aaannnddd... this fiction has cursing, violence, gore, and perhaps sexual themes, although I'm not writing any sex scenes (don't get scared, folks.) Read at your own risk.**

**Have fun!**

* * *

In Riley's dream, the colors were so intense that she was almost frightened of them, and she shrank away. The blues were a violent color and they hurt her eyes, and she could almost hear the humming of the neon greens. The color yellow flickered in front of her eyes like a wailing candle flame, and the deep reds scorched and bit at her skin.

When her eyes flickered open, the colors faded away into the oblivion of her subconscious. Replacing them was the red-ish monochrome of her cell, which had kept her locked away for a time longer than she cared to remember. She thought it had been close to a week, now. Tentatively, she put a hand against her large stomach and felt an answering kick from one of the quadruplets. She didn't know how much longer she had left, but giving birth to any of them in this nightmarish place… she shuddered.

Riley Nicole D'Aubigne was not a prostitute. She was not a whore, and she had not spent her time corrupting the youth of France. The strange, terrifying Baron of Brennenburg disagreed with her on all three of those points, and he seemed to delight in constantly reminding her. Of the five times he had passed by her cell, he'd stopped for a pleasant chat every single time, and each time he'd told her what she'd done.

"You will be punished," he'd said darkly, and left her alone with the screams funneled in through the pipes.

Of course, Riley wasn't completely alone. She had her children, nestled in her ever-growing belly. Whatever they were going to do to her, surely they wouldn't touch her children. Whatever they accused her of doing, her children were wholly innocent. It would be a crime against God for them to kill babies, and if they truly were seeking to administer justice, they would not seek to harm the young ones.

With a sigh, she leaned against one of the cold walls, hearing a shriek rattle in through the pipes. She hated times like this. The torture sometimes went on for hours, and it disturbed her to listen to it. The screaming would not break Riley, but it certainly angered her. Baron or no baron, if she ever got her hands on that man's neck he would rue the day he'd started his grisly games.

A few strands of white-blonde hair had come loose from her makeshift bun. They bounced against her pale face in their signature curls, and she pushed them away from her blue eyes with an impatient sigh.

The shrieking had increased in intensity, and she fumbled for the rosary around her neck. At times like this, with no one to throttle and no one to comfort, praying to God was Riley's only solution. Her palms were cold with sweat as she pressed them together and cast her gaze skyward, eyes seeking a sky that was blocked by a warren of cold stone. "Our father, who art in heaven," she muttered, breathing heavily. One of the children had started to kick, and it was fast becoming uncomfortable. "Hallowed be thy name." It was a standard prayer, devoid of her usual enthusiasm and creativity, but right now she didn't have the stamina for anything else. "Thy kingdom come, thy will be done, on Earth as it is in heaven."

A true scream erupted from the pipes, and then the muted sound of terrified sobs. Riley tore her eyes away from the ceiling and glared at the pipe set just enough above her head that she was unable to shout insults at the torturers. Clenching her hands into fists, she narrowed her eyes. "Bastards," she swore, gritting her teeth. "Monstrous bastards."

With another loud scream, a ringing silence descended on the cell. Riley closed her eyes; if they were done torturing that unlucky fellow, whoever he'd been, they might come up for another person. Riley didn't know whether or not she was going to be able to handle it, but she didn't have any particular desire to find out.

Desire or no desire, they came for her little less than an hour later. The door to her cell squeaked, creaked and shuddered open, and there he was on the other side: the red-coated, wild-eyed Baron of Brennenburg.

She rushed forward as best she could with the pregnancy, only to find her progress arrested by one of the nightmarish creatures that had brought her here in the first place. She struggled, but the jawless beast simply glared at her unblinkingly.

"Stop your struggling," Alexander sniffed, looking at her with barely disguised malice. "It won't do you any good."

She glared at him. "Pardon me for trying," she snapped archly, although she did follow the Baron's advice. The beast holding her had metal claws, and whenever she wriggled they dug into her skin.

At the lack of movement, the Baron's lips quirked upwards in a smile. "Come," he said, gesturing to the monster clutching Riley's arms. It gave a low grunting sound and began to shuffle after the Baron, dragging Riley along with it. Her arms ached, but she kept a grim expression on her face, determined to keep all of her fear and pain to herself.

It was only when they'd descended the rickety wooden stairs that Riley noticed the shadow walking behind them. He was a thin boy, with dark brown hair and hollow eyes. When he walked, they darted nervously from side to side, as though he were watching for something. Riley had never seen him before, but he didn't look like a prisoner.

She tried to catch his eye, but when he realized that she was actively looking at him, he flinched and hurried until he was walking next to the Baron with his back to her. The Baron rubbed his shoulder comfortingly, and Riley realized that this man was going to be of no help to her, if he was Alexander's friend.

They passed the room with the jawless man who hung limply in his chains. Riley remembered him from the first time she'd been through here, after her initial capture. She shuddered briefly. After the pregnancy, when she and Gabriel had agreed that the shame of bastard children would be too much for his family (as would be the shame of impregnating a then-eighteen year old girl), she'd decided to return home, to France. But her train had been delayed in Prussia because of the snow, and she'd tried to take a carriage to the nearest home, for shelter. The carriage driver had abandoned her when they'd gotten too close to the castle, stating that he had no interest in going any farther. Now she could see why.

The strange monsters had taken her not long after she'd began her trudge to the gates, and she'd been dragged to the Baron. He'd sent her to the cells with a smile, and now she was about to get the living crap tortured out of her, and she was still very much pregnant.

They had passed through a warren of corridors, and were standing in front of a door. The Baron grabbed Riley's arm and waved a hand at the monster. "Go away, you are no longer needed." With a guttural whine, it shambled back into the darkness and was lost from her view.

Despite his elderly appearance, the Baron's hand on her forearm was clenching tight enough to leave a mark. The silent boy who had been accompanying them opened the door and the Baron gave her a slight push. Stumbling, she nearly fell through the door. The brown-haired man caught her arm, and she straightened herself up. "Thank you," she said, sincerely.

He looked away and did not reply.

"Get her ready, Daniel," Baron Alexander said, and the man (Daniel, apparently) pushed her towards a set of shackles hanging from the ceiling. She paled, and whipped around, slamming her fist into Daniel's shoulder. He cried out and crumpled, and she turned to the door. _If I can only run fast enough…_

She made it to the threshold before Alexander had one arm wrapped around her neck. She tried to jab at him with her elbows, but he avoided the blows as if he could predict them, all the while pulling her back towards the chains on the ceiling. "Are you alright, Daniel?" he asked, his voice concerned. "She's a feisty one."

"I-I'm alright," Daniel said. He had risen to his feet, and took Riley's arms, pulling them behind her back and wrapping them together with an abrasive cord. Riley bit her lip to resist the urge to start telling him that this was all a mistake, that they should really send her home. They wouldn't listen to that stuff—she could tell.

The Baron had knelt, and was reaching for her ankles. She snapped her foot towards him, but he somehow managed to predict the blow and turned his head to the side so her foot glanced off his shoulder. His face impassive, he clutched her ankle and clamped it down before repeating the procedure.

Daniel had attached her bound wrists to the shackles hanging on the ceiling. Riley noticed a picture of a woman being hoisted into the air, her arms snapping and twisting above her head. The picture was on the wall, placed mockingly in her direct line of sight.

"Good, Daniel," the Baron said. "Now cover her eyes."

"Yes, Baron," Daniel said. In the next moment, a sack was shoved hastily over her head, so that only dim light filtered through. Fear clutched at her throat, but she closed her eyes and mouthed her prayers. _Hail Mary, full of grace…_

_ Your prayers will not save you now, young lady. _The voice was cold, and it resonated in her head as she felt the shackles holding her arms beginning to rise.

She held out for as long as she could, but when her shoulders began to dislocate she finally allowed herself to scream.

* * *

Ezekiel Hanns tried to ignore the fear stabbing him through the chest, but it had become difficult. There was a woman screaming bloody murder in the pipes right now, and it was keeping him up. Not that he didn't feel sympathy for the poor girl (of course he did), but her desperate wailing was so damn difficult to listen to. It constantly reminded him that it was very likely he would be next.

He wished that there was somebody there to talk to. Ezekiel wasn't a talkative guy so much as a guy who enjoyed some company, and he really wished he had some right now. There was nothing like being locked up in a darkened chamber, knowing that his demise was unpleasantly close, for scary dreams and unpleasant thoughts.

Blue eye darting around nervously, he rubbed a hand against his bald head. With a grimace, he realized that stubble was starting to prick against his palm. The bastards hadn't even provided him with a decent razor. Thinking of razors made him close his eyes—no, his _eye. _Sometimes it was hard to remember that they'd already had lots of fun with him, down there in the darkness.

To be honest, Ezekiel had never felt more alone as when they'd smashed his eye with the iron poker. Even though they were right there, standing next to him, they were viewing him as some sort of bleeding animal. "They," in this case, was that crazy old dude and the weird kid with him. "Bastards," he muttered again. What had the old guy accused him of? Oh, right—he'd said that Ezekiel was a murderer. Now that was stupid. Ezekiel had never murdered anybody, and to top it off, he'd only just moved to the area before the little town he'd selected had been attacked. Well, not attacked—the old dude and his cohorts had left most of the villagers alone, but they hadn't seemed to have a problem with taking the foreigner to his doom.

With a start, he realized that the girl's wailing had quieted. Perhaps they had finally finished with her. He realized that he hoped she was dead, if only because it would save her so much pain. He didn't really wish that he was dead, but he hoped that if they were going to torture him again, they'd kill him after, and be done with it.

There was quiet in his cell for the next fifteen minutes or so, and he tried to close his eyes and get some rest. There wasn't a bed in this room, as there had been when they'd jammed him in the cellar, so he figured it meant that they were getting ready to end him for good this time. He scowled and pressed his back harder into the corner of the room. Like hell he was going to let them kill him. He'd put up a good fight, first, or at least he'd try.

He opened his eye when he heard the thud of feet on the staircase that led to his set of cells. Despite himself, his palms had begun to sweat. He didn't really want to die—not like this, at least. Not like a dog, at the feet of greater men. He frowned to himself and stood, stalking to the barred window in the door and glaring out.

Sure enough, it was the old guy and the shaky kid. They were supporting the limp body of a young woman between them, and as they passed Ezekiel realized that she was pregnant. He ground his teeth. "Hey!" he snapped. "So you're going after babies now, too? You fuckers are sick."

The kid failed to respond, like always, but the old man raised an eyebrow. "It is not the children we're punishing," he said gravely. "But they were conceived through sin and seduction. Their mother deserves to burn, and as soon as the children have been brought into this world, burn she shall."

"Yeah," the boy said, although he didn't look quite as convinced. His eyes constantly swiveled, darting to glance in the darkened corners of the world outside Ezekiel's cell. "She seduced a young boy to get those children. He wasn't any older than twelve."

Ezekiel rolled his eyes. "That's bull," he snapped. "You can say what you want, but there's no way she would've done something like that."

The old man smiled. "You don't look very much like a murderer," he said. "But that didn't stop you."

"Ah, shut up!" Ezekiel snarled. "I never killed anybody!"

"That's what you all say," the old man's protégé said, voice trembling. "Why can't you just accept your sins?"

"If they were real," Ezekiel grumbled, "I'd accept them a bit better."

The old man and the boy shrugged simultaneously, readjusting their grips on the unconscious girl. Ezekiel realized that her arms had been bent out of shape completely, and sweat shone on her forehead. He took a step back from the door. _Oh, Christ. I should've kept my mouth shut, they're gonna go after me next for sure._

He could hear them tugging her towards the cell next door. He hadn't known he'd had someone so close by him, all this time. It was comforting, despite the fact that communicating with her was going to be nigh impossible.

A strange feeling had come over him, watching that poor girl. Ezekiel had long since realized that the lantern on his ceiling was broken, and he'd eventually pulled it down to tinker with it. He'd only managed to break the stupid thing into pieces, but they were made of glass. If those men tried to come in here, he'd stab the living crap out of them. He wouldn't let them do to him what they'd done to her.

Sure enough, they strolled into view only moments later. "Do you think we should call one of your servants, Alexander?" the boy asked, looking slightly nervous.

The old man, Alexander, sniffed. "I doubt it. I think the two of us can handle him, Daniel."

Ezekiel was offended.

The boy, Daniel, reached into his pocket and produced a key, which he inserted into the lock in Ezekiel's door. Ezekiel backed away, hoping to entice the boy inside. There was a bucket in the corner where he'd stashed the glass pieces, and he slipped a hand inside it. Well, he was armed now. That made him feel somewhat better.

The door swung open, and Daniel put the key back in his pocket. When he saw Ezekiel in the corner, he frowned. "Hey. Get out of there," he said.

"Like hell I will," Ezekiel muttered, and lunged.

Daniel crumpled to the floor, and Ezekiel angled the piece of glass downwards, away from the boy's face and neck. He only wanted to injure him, not to kill him. Ezekiel was not a killer, no matter what Alexander and Daniel might think.

The piece of glass sliced across Daniel's collarbone, and he shrieked in pain, trying to pull away. Ezekiel only had time for another slice before a great force had him by the back of the neck. It threw him to the ground, and in the next moment or so a boot slammed into his face. The boot was merciless in its onslaught, and Ezekiel gasped and choked as he was pummeled in the face, neck, chest, stomach, and groin. Wheezing, he dropped the glass, and then whimpered when the boot stepped on his hand, crunching the bones uncomfortably.

While he was still lying on the floor, the old man and his wretched boots bent over and pulled Daniel up by the shoulder, supporting him. Alexander made an annoyed sound at the sight of the gashes on Daniel's chest. "You're going to regret that," he hissed at Ezekiel. "Don't worry, Daniel," he added. "We'll have you fixed up in no time."

Still glaring daggers at him, the old man helped the whimpering Daniel out of the cell. "If I were you," he told Ezekiel through the door, "I would be very frightened right now. As soon as I've patched him up, we'll be back." He seemed to realize that Daniel was in no state to lock the door and produced his own key, shutting Ezekiel away in his prison.

Groaning, Ezekiel tried to sit up by supporting himself on his injured hand. Unfortunately, it closed around an object lying on the floor instead, and he hit the ground chin-first. "Oww," he moaned, lifting his hand to see what it was. As soon as he did, he stopped moaning.

Lying on his palm was Daniel's key.

_I must've slashed open his coat pocket when I grabbed him, _Ezekiel realized. _Or it just fell out. Whatever, it doesn't matter where it came from. I have to get out of here, right now. _It probably wouldn't take them long to figure out that Daniel's key was missing, and then they'd come back and kill him. That much was certain.

Tremulously (his whole body still ached) he got to his knees and then his feet, staggering to the door like a drunk. There was no keyhole on his side of the door, but that didn't stop him for long. Reaching through the bars in his little window, he jerked his arm sharply downwards, ignoring the extreme pain. Fumbling, trying not to drop the key, he felt around, until finally… _yes._

He jerked his arm back through the window and gave the door an experimental push. Creaking, it swung open, revealing the rickety stairs and frightening darkness that he'd gotten used to. Tentatively, he poked his head out of the cell. Nothing. None of those weird monster things, and no sign of Alexander _or _Daniel.

It was now or never. Ezekiel slipped through the door and shut it carefully behind him, being careful to lock it with his key. Stepping to the left, he peeked through the door into the girl's cell. She was fast asleep, and didn't look too good. He tried his key on her door with his heart in his mouth, but it didn't fit.

The door was metal, and Ezekiel didn't think he was strong enough to break it. Still, there was probably something lying around in this stupid castle that could help him let her out. He had no intention of braving the horrors of this place alone.

"I'm sorry," he muttered, in the direction of the unconscious girl. "I'll come back as soon as I can. You… just… wait here for now." She stirred slightly, but stayed asleep. It was probably better that way anyway.

The rickety stairs beckoned, and Ezekiel crept towards them, his palms sweating. He'd have to be careful, and watch his step, and… _crap _it was dark. Maybe he could just sit by this candle for a moment…

Ezekiel sighed. If his progress was going to be this slow, he'd be dead within the hour.

It wasn't a comforting thought, but it got him down the stairs. That was all that mattered.

* * *

Rane's self-esteem had always been remarkably low. Her accomplishments were meaningless, she told herself. They didn't matter and probably never would.

Still, the fact that she had finally managed a way out of her cell was not meaningless, not in the slightest.

She allowed herself a small smile as she stepped back to admire her handiwork. Unless you were actively looking for it, it was rather difficult to see the fact that a large portion of the bricks to the left of her door had been knocked out of their places, and then replaced to divert suspicion. All she had to do now was wait for her meal. She certainly didn't want to risk escape when the creature that brought her food was stalking around!

To be totally honest, Rane still had no idea why she was here. There had been a carriage ride with her uncle to a place called Brennenburg… but she'd fallen asleep on the way, and she'd woken up in a cell. She'd been locked up for over a month, and not a single thing had happened to her. Food was brought three times a day, and that was all. It would have been monotonous, but Rane was determined that she was going to be leaving, and so she'd begun to chip at the bricks.

They'd already been loose, and it had still taken her a month to dislocate enough of them for her to squeeze through. But she was finally ready—well, _almost _ready. Dinner first, and then she'd be on her way. She'd find Uncle Darius, and they'd get out of here. Hopefully his cell wasn't too far away from her own!

The grunting sound that she'd come to be intimately familiar with echoed down the hallway, and the door to her cell shuddered as a clawed hand slammed into it. The monster impatiently unlocked the door with its clumsy claws and entered the cell, holding her usual tray of food. It pushed the tray towards her, and wordlessly she took it. The monster always watched her eat; probably to make sure she wouldn't starve herself or something.

Tonight's meal was water in a tin mug, with a loaf of bread and what looked to be ham, cut into thick slabs. Whatever it was, she jammed it all into her mouth at once—she wanted the monster to go away so she could get started. It watched her unblinkingly until she chewed and swallowed, and waited patiently as she drained her mug. Then, with a grunt, it snatched back the tray and exited the cell, glaring at her the entire time.

She could barely wait the fifteen minutes she thought was appropriate, but she managed it. Then, with a deep breath, she got on her hands and knees and crawled towards the bricks, putting one hand out and pushing at them. They fell apart at her touch and she marveled for a moment at her handiwork. _Alright, that was a good job on my part, _she admitted to herself. _Okay. I can do this._

Carefully, Rane nosed through the small hole in the brickwork. The jagged edges of her creation scraped against her ragged bodice, and she wrinkled her nose. _Ouch. Should've thought of that. Oh well._

The air was cool and damp as she slipped into the darkened corridor and straightened up, stretching her back. She was going to have to be infinitely quiet, or one of those creepy things would probably hear her. She had no idea where she was, only the barest hint of what was going on, and she was scared stiff. All in all, it was a bad combination.

_I'll just find Uncle Darius. That's all. Then we can go home._

She fiddled with her jet-black hair, tied up with a blue ribbon her mother had given her. Rane sighed. Her mother had been murdered when she was only thirteen—that had been five years ago. Her father had died on that night as well, and that's when she'd gone to live with Uncle Darius.

_And it was all my fault, _she reminded herself, miserable. _They probably wouldn't have died if it hadn't been for me. I'm such a freak. _It was the violet eyes that frightened people, and the Star of David on her right shoulder. The men that had killed her parents had been wearing robes with a strange sort of triangle on them, some kind of cult symbol. What would a cult want with her family, if not her? She'd barely managed to get to Uncle Darius, and they'd had to move away.

She always thought like this when she was alone. The past month had been almost unbearable for her, what with the lack of people around. Those strange monsters did not count, and they frightened her besides.

Well, none of them were here now. Balling her hands into fists, she started forwards into darkness. She had no idea why she was being held here, but when whoever was responsible for her imprisonment found out about her escape, they'd likely be furious. _I wonder if this has to do with the cult, or with me, _she thought, miserable. _If they hurt Uncle Darius, then this really is all my fault. Oh God, I'm terrible. _

The corridor ended with a choice: she could either go right or left. After a moment of trepidation, she chose right and headed into darkness again, leaving the light of a flickering torch behind. She really didn't know where she was going, but there weren't any cells in this corridor. It was only when she reached the end of the corridor that she realized that there were metal bars blocking her progress, connected to some kind of door. She rattled the grate once—only once. That was all she had time for.

A grisly roar echoed throughout the corridor, and Rane gave a squeak of fear and backed away from the metal grate. Something was shambling towards her with alarming speed, and though she tried to huddle against the wall, it most definitely saw her. It screeched, and she realized it was one of the frightening jawless entities that brought her food. Apparently they enjoyed roaming around down here as well.

_It can't get me, _she reminded herself. _It's on the other side of the metal bars… oh my God. _The monster swung one of its hands at the grate, which shivered and rattled. Another swing, and the grate squealed desperately. _Can it… can it break down the metal? _

She decided that sticking around to find out could be detrimental to her health. She scrambled to her feet and turned to run, and heard a metallic crash as something slammed into the ground. _Oh no… the grate. _The monster behind her roared, and she gritted her teeth. _Run, run, run Rane. _

She bolted back into her own corridor (safe territory?) and dove back through the hole, sliding under her bed and curling into a little ball. She could hear the monster sniffing around, shambling about in front of her door. _Don't come in, please don't come in. _Her prayers seemed to be answered, because the monster shuffled away, placated now that it couldn't see her anymore.

Sweating and trembling, she crawled out from under the bed. _Oh, Jesus. I can't do this. I can't. _Still, if she didn't try, her uncle might end up getting hurt, or worse. Perhaps he'd already been hurt.

It was the thought of her uncle, needing her, that gave Rane the courage to poke her head out of the hole again. The monster was gone, but that didn't mean it wasn't hanging around somewhere. Heart hammering in her chest, she scraped her way through the hole again and got to her feet for a second time.

_Alright, _she thought. _I think it went the other way, so I'll go back to where it broke the door down. _She trotted down the halls, clutching her skirt with both hands to keep her palms from sweating too much. At the point she'd had to flee from last time, she winced. The door had been smashed and was now languishing on the floor, bent totally out of shape. _That could've been me, _she realized with a small frown. _Good thing it wasn't, I suppose._

Stepping over the door, she walked carefully into the new corridor, keeping her eyes peeled for any signs of trouble. Nothing was forthcoming, and so she had to assume that she was safe—for now, at least. She was sure that there were more monsters down here, and if she was going to survive she'd have to avoid all of them.

She turned the corner, and a tiny smile quirked across her face. At the end of the corridor was an open door, leading to a staircase. _This is my way out, _she realized. _I'll go down the staircase and sniff around for my uncle. _

Now all she had to do was keep away from those monsters…

* * *

The night was cool and Kalen Rider wrapped his dark coat a little tighter around his slim frame, brushing a strand of black hair out of his eyes impatiently. The moon hung low over the Castle Brennenburg, and he reflected that it was going to be difficult to get inside undetected.

Still, he had to try. Even and Eve were in there, getting an "education" from the Baron. Kalen snorted quietly. _Education, my ass. I've heard the stories about what goes on in there. _

His plan was simple. Break in, get the twins, leave. There was nothing to it. Of course, he hadn't executed his plan yet, but he figured he wouldn't have any trouble with it. He was armed; his sword was at his hip, protected by a flimsy wooden sheath. No one in that castle was going to be able to take him by surprise.

There was no point in hanging around outside. Stiffly, he brushed back his hair and began to weave through the trees, getting ever-closer to the imposing structure. Nothing was moving and none of the lights were on, which Kalen found foreboding. At the Queen's palace in England, something was always going on.

_I knew this place was weird, _he thought to himself, slipping ever-closer to the building. He'd tried to be polite the first time he'd come here, asking the Baron if _perhaps _he could take the twins back home, where they belonged. What had he gotten for his troubles? The Baron had informed him that the children were under his jurisdiction now, and he'd gotten thrown out. _Arrogant old man, _Kalen thought.

The castle Brennenburg loomed overhead, blocking out the moon. Tentatively, Kalen jogged towards the large front doors and pushed on one. Locked, of course. Still, the place had plenty of windows that he could break. Turning around, he stalked around one of the massive stone corners.

He ended up having to walk the entire length of the building before he found a breakable window. Worse, it was freaking high up. Even worse, it was stained glass, and somebody was bound to notice if he broke stained glass.

Gritting his teeth, Kalen put one hand on the sloping side of the castle and began to climb. They weren't exactly inviting thievery here, but they weren't doing the best job of discouraging it either. It was lucky for the Baron that Kalen was no thief, unless stealing his younger siblings counted.

When he finally made it to the base of the window, he was covered in sweat and clinging to the unfortunately smooth stone with his fingertips. Feeling like some sort of stupid-looking gymnast, he managed to lift his right leg into the air and press it against the glass. Slowly, he pressed down, feeling it shudder against his boots. _More…_

With a melodious tinkle, the boot shoved through the stained glass, and he nearly lost his grip. Luckily for him, the whole window failed to come crashing down. Trying to keep his grip firm, Kalen jerked his boot the right and then to the left, widening the hole. When he figured it was big enough, he pitched himself forward, ignoring stabs of pain as shards of glass sliced his thighs and ribcage.

He squeaked, realizing how high up he was. Gravity was a cruel mistress, and Kalen found himself speeding towards the ground. With a crash, he slammed into marble tiling. Growling to himself, he staggered to his feet and pulled his sword from his sheath. Nothing popped out to attack him, so he was probably fine.

He grinned. _You need better security, Baron, _he thought. _If this were Buckingham Palace, I would've been dead by now. _His red eyes darted around, trying to figure out his surroundings. He'd crash-landed behind some kind of centipede fountain (weird) and there were various doors leading out of the hall. _Better pick one, _he thought.

The one to his left seemed like a good enough choice. He started forward, keeping a tight grip on his sword. He didn't particularly want to hurt any servants or anything, but if they attacked him or tried to raise the alarm, he might have to. _It's all for Eve and Evan, _he reminded himself. _This is to protect them. I just know there's something off about this place…_

With a jolt, Kalen realized that he heard something: some kind of mechanical creaking sound. He turned behind him to see, in the distance, what looked to be an elevator shaft, with a moving elevator. His face paled. _Crap. _Throwing himself forward, he darted down the stairs to the door and hurled it open, shutting it quickly behind him. _They'll notice the broken window for sure, _he groaned mentally. _They'll probably start looking for me._

He had a terrible feeling that it was the Baron who'd been coming up the elevator. _He seems pretty smart, too. Okay. I'll just go down these stairs and find a place to hide for a couple hours. I'm a good hider; they probably won't find me._

He felt a bit like a coward, running from the Baron, but if he killed the old man the Prussian government would probably be angry. _My actions would reflect badly on the Queen. As one of Her Majesty's knights, I have to act with her honor in mind, _he reminded himself, and started down the stairs.

Whatever place this was, it was dark and a little bit creepy. The stairs were wooden and creaked, which was unfortunate. Also, some idiot had put a cluster of candles down on the bottom step. Scowling, Kalen bent over and blew them out. Whose idea was that? Didn't they know that candles on wooden stairs were a fire hazard?

It was only after he'd blown out the candles that he realized what they'd been doing there. This was a dark, dark room, and all he could see was another set of candles, floating in the distance. Slowly, he made his way towards them, and stiffened when he heard the door at the top of the stairs opening. _Shit!_

The candles were bright and would give him away. Guessing at which way to go, he bolted to the left and was rewarded with the fuzzy outline of a door. He opened it and heard a disturbing sound, almost like growling, coming from the stairs. It increased in volume and he slipped inside this new room, shutting the door behind him.

He had no time to look at his surroundings. Something slammed into the door he'd just shut, shaking it wildly. _What the hell? _It slammed into the door again, and the door squeaked and groaned. Kalen took a step away from it and yelped as he tripped over a crate, falling in between what looked like two shelves and banging his head.

The door exploded in bits of wood and dust. Kalen, from where he was sheltered behind the crates, got a glimpse of a humanoid, strangely terrifying silhouette, and then whatever it was turned and shambled away, leaving him with his heart pounding. _What the fuck was that?_ he thought, getting to his feet and aiming his sword at the open door. _Whatever it is, I'm going to have to get around it._

Slowly, he peeked out the door. No monster. _Okay then, _he thought, nodding slowly. _That was simple._

He made his way back to the bar with the candles and tried to examine the room with their light. There appeared to be a door to his left, and he decided to try it. _I need to keep going. If Evan and Eve are anywhere near those things, so help me God… _

The door beckoned, and Kalen opened it and trotted down another flight of stairs. This time, there was a window filtering ghostly blue light from the moon outside, although the window was disappointingly small. _Okay, I'll check all the doors for the twins, _he decided, and went towards the closest door, the one on his right.

Oops. Looked like he'd found the monster.

It jerked its head towards him and Kalen grimaced. _What the—? _It didn't seem to have a jaw and was mostly naked, although a flimsy loincloth covered its nether regions. Glaring at it, he snorted once and charged, burying his sword in its pasty chest.

It blinked at him for a moment and pulled the sword out, crumpling it as though it were a twig. A few drops of blood oozed from the wound, but nothing more. It grunted, and he could've sworn it was smirking.

"Oh, _crap,_" he said, taking a step back.

The monster lunged forward to meet him, and though he raised a hand and aimed for its face, a well-aimed blow ripped into his arm. He gasped in pain, and the last thing he felt was a club-like arm slamming his head against a hard wooden beam. His vision wavered and turned foggy, and he slumped to the ground and let the darkness claim him.


	3. The Beginnings: Howls in the Dark

**Hey, guys! This is my second introductory chapter. In this chapter, Jack, Damaris, Raptor, and Erik will be featured. Next chapter will be half introductory (Forgetful and Arrianna) and the rest will focus on the plot. Unless I get more OCs, and need to introduce them too. Remember, once introductory chapters are over, anyone and everyone can and will be featured, so get ready for some intense stuff!**

**Disclaimer: Don't own Amnesia: The Dark Descent. If I did, Alexander would be younger. Why, you ask? Well, reading Alexander/Daniel fanfiction would be quite a bit less creepy that way.**

**Also: this fic has so much violence, cursing, and other naughty things, that you're reading at your own risk.**

**Ciao!**

* * *

Colonel Jack Remarc forced his eyes open. They were burning from lack of sleep, just as his throat was burning from lack of water. One of those damned _things _had brought him some water about a day ago, and it hadn't been much. As for food, there'd been a crust of bread. Just enough to keep him alive and moderately healthy.

He had no idea what they were planning to do to him. He had been a foreigner in a strange but charming country, but he hadn't expected anything remarkable to come of it. He was only on leave to visit his uncle. And he was from the United States, the up-and-coming country that the world was still whispering about. Kidnapping a soldier from the States was not something that happened.

And yet here he was, languishing in a tiny cell with enough room for a bed and a bucket that was meant for his excrement. The bucket was filthy now, and it smelled awful. There wasn't enough room in the cell for him to get away from the smell. It didn't matter anyway; this whole damned prison smelled like shit and blood.

And there it was again, that _sound. _It was like the furious moans of a whale, harpooned in the stomach and left to die. Jack had seen a whale once. He'd been out on a boat, training with the other men. They'd been diving into the sea water and swimming about, and he dove, and then he heard it, pressing in on his ears. It was a hollow sound that made him think of deep places not meant to be visited by the human race. The whale itself was a massive black shadow, too far away for him to reach. Another ghostly moan had erupted from its thick snout, and it turned and slipped away, back to the deep places in the sea and in his mind.

The sound that the green creature (_creatures, maybe?_) made was quite similar to that underwater moan. It made the sound every time it wandered into his prison block, as though warning the prisoners that if they were doing anything it wouldn't approve of, they'd better stop. Jack had never seen it physically punish a prisoner before, but from the look of that gigantic blade on its arm, it was perfectly capable of such a feat.

There was a little window on his door, and like always he got up and went to it, glaring at the green thing. _Water, _he thought, although he didn't say it out loud. _Bring me some _water, _damn you. _

He realized as it drew closer that it was carrying something large, although that something was not a barrel of water. No, the green thing had a person slung over its shoulder, a person who was bleeding quite steadily from a wound on his head. The man had jet black hair and a hawkish profile that seemed soft, since he was unconscious.

The green moaner gave another one of those moans, and Jack felt the hairs on the nape of his neck rise. He hated that sound. It was so haunting, and he felt as though he would hear the sound in his dreams. He did hear it in his dreams, sometimes.

As the beast shambled to the door across from Jack's, he stopped watching and went back to his cot, sinking onto the mattress and putting his head in his hands. _Oh, damn it, _he thought. _Damn it, what if they never bring food or water again? I can't die like this. _

There was the unmistakable sound of a door being locked. _Poor guy, _Jack thought, wishing he could help. If he could only get out of this cell…! He'd tried everything, after he'd woken up to this nightmare. He'd been out late, walking to the nearest town, when he heard the breathy neigh of a horse, and something clubbed him on the side of the head. He'd woken up with fuzzy vision and an even fuzzier remembrance of what had happened to him.

_Hey._

Jack stiffened, like always, and glanced around the cell before relaxing. The voice in his head was no stranger to him now. At first he'd assumed that he'd gone insane, but the voice had assured him that he was _not _crazy. At the other end of the voice was a girl, as much a prisoner as he was. Normally, he would have scoffed at the idea of telepathy, but after seeing those frightening beasts, the idea wasn't so strange anymore.

_Hello, Damaris, _he responded. Apparently all he had to do was think it, and she would understand. She could even pick up on the fact that he was thinking about how they communicated, because now she was chortling.

_How's it going? _she asked. _Did you see the new guy?_

_ I saw him, _Jack replied. _I don't suppose you could poke around in his head, find out more about him?_

_ Well, he's asleep, _Damaris said, patiently. _So no._

Jack sighed. Damaris had always been quite touchy about her abilities. He'd only asked her where she'd learned telepathy _one time, _and he'd been treated to a rant about respecting other people's privacy.

She wasn't at all upset about teaching him the mechanics of mind-talking, though. He still wasn't very good at it, and most definitely could not poke around in other people's minds just like that, but Jack had started to pick up a few skills. He was able to contact Damaris now, probably because she was his teacher, but still. She'd promised him that with more practice he'd be able to speak to other people in their minds, and even to the strange creatures that roamed the halls. _Of course, _she'd said at the time, _their minds are messed up beyond belief. Even I don't like roaming them._

Hearing his thoughts now, Damaris sighed. Hearing sighs in his mind were strange; he could almost feel them, feather-light, brushing up against his brain. _Don't even think about it, _she said, warningly. _You'll freak out and go psycho, and then I won't have anyone to talk to._

He didn't even bother to respond to that. _How's your escape plan going? _he asked her, feeling anxious. _Have you managed to open the door yet?_

_ If I had, I'd probably be dancing outside your cell._

_ Just checking. _He let the mental connection fade. He'd grown to like the personality that was Damaris, although he worried that she was a bit too relaxed about this whole ordeal. Neither of them had any clue what they were doing in the cells. To be honest, Damaris had never actually told him what she was doing in Prussia in the first place, but Jack didn't think she seemed like someone who deserved to be locked up.

His stomach gave another almost painful growl, and he remembered that he was still incredibly thirsty. _What if I do die…? _he thought, lying back on the cot. _No one will know except for Damaris, and maybe she'll die too. _His thoughts began to drift towards his uncle, who was probably still awaiting his nephew. _I'll bet Uncle Bryan is so worried, _he thought. The image of his white-haired, whiskery uncle usually made him smile, but he found that the facial muscles required for smiling simply wouldn't work properly. _I can't. I can't. I hate this place._

He was scared, it was true. _After all, _he reminded himself, _true bravery is when you know you're scared and own up. _Now he found that he could smile, although it was a grim grin. _Well, I'm scared, but I'm gonna keep on fighting no matter what._

Jack's green eyes had become unfocused. Instead of allowing his military senses to take over, he let himself drift deeper into the half-sleep. _Damaris will tell me if something happens._

As soon as his eyes slipped close, the howling began.

Jack jerked to an upright position, immediately glaring at the ceiling. He could feel the ground rumbling, and there were hairline cracks in the walls that were widening into gashes in the stone. He heard something crashing to the ground, and then one of the walls in his cell collapsed entirely. The ceiling groaned ominously, although he could barely hear it over the ceaseless, relentless howls. _What the hell is that? _

The crumbling wall alerted him to the fact that the ceiling was due to cave in any second. He leaped to his feet and lunged, feeling air on his back as the ceiling gave in with an almost human screech. He felt something catch on his leg and hissed in pain, but strove on, tumbling into the adjoining cell.

The shaking had begun to subside. With one last frightening howl, the walls stopped trembling, and the dust quietly began to settle. Coughing and not yet ready to check the injury on his leg, Jack looked up from the ground and took in the young woman in front of him. The dark brown hair was so long, and the eyes were blue and kind, although they were currently worried. "I know you," Jack coughed. "Damaris."

She grinned. "You know me," she said, and he could only marvel at how relaxed she seemed. _She just might be crazy._

_ Then again, after everything I've been through, maybe I am too._

* * *

Damaris Fatetin let her knees give out; she sank to the ground like a stone. Only two walls had collapsed in her cell, but the roaring had been frightening, and she hadn't been prepared for it. And now she had a new companion; Colonel Jack Remarc had come hurtling through one of the broken walls, and he was now lying in front of her, almost motionless but for the steady rise and fall of his chest.

Despite the fact that Damaris felt she knew Jack pretty well, she'd never actually seen him. He had a very manly nose, she decided, and his brown hair was cut neatly. That one made her grin guiltily; her own hair could probably use a trim. At the moment, he was covered in a layer of dust and wood chips, and she could already see that his leg was in dire need of care.

She grimaced. A long spear-like shard of wood had punched directly through skin and muscle, and now Jack's leg was pumping blood. He appeared to be in pain; his face was twisted, and a sheen of sweat covered all of his visible skin.

"Oh, schnitzel," Damaris muttered. This was not good. She could talk with Jack in her mind, but Klei had never taught her how to patch people up. She swallowed at the thought of him. _Klei…_

Well. Thinking about Klei wasn't going to do her any good now. If he hadn't ever taught her how to fix a stabbed leg, then she was going to _learn _how to fix a stabbed leg! _First time's the charm!_

_ Damaris… _Jack's mind whispered.

She blinked. Jack had really been progressing well; he could already initiate a connection with her. It hadn't taken Klei very long to teach her that particular skill, but she wasn't the best teacher so it wasn't Jack's fault.

_Did you hear that last bit? _she asked. _Don't worry. I'll get you patched up._

"N-no," Jack coughed, reverting back to the form of communication more natural to him. "Don't…"

"Come on!" she said, patting him on the shoulder. "I've got to get you fixed up, you know. I'm not about to _leave _you here."

Jack's arm moved convulsively, fixing on to the sleeve of her dress. Her eyes widened as he dragged her down, until their faces were centimeters apart. "Leave me," he ordered harshly, although his eyes revealed the fact that he was just as scared by that idea as she was. "You have to get out of here before those moaning things get back."

"You mean the Brutes? That's what they call themselves, when they think about each other." _Wait, what am I doing? I should be fixing his leg, not babbling about Brutes… _"Forget it. And I'm not leaving you here." She got up, pulling her sleeve free from his grip, and stepped over him.

_Damaris! _Jack shouted mentally. _Go! Hurry up and leave before they get here!_

_ Nope! _She thought cheerfully, and cast her mind elsewhere, trying to ignore Jack's entreaties. She didn't really want to pull out the chunk of wood, but leaving it in seemed like an equally bad option. _Think, Damaris, think… _Well, she probably would have to pull it out so he could walk. Working quickly, she grasped her left sleeve at the shoulder and pulled, feeling it rip from the main body of her dress. _Goodbye, aesthetically pleasing dress, hello badass dress. _

"What're you doing?" Jack mumbled, trying to move his head to see.

"Stop that," Damaris said, putting one finger on the back of his head and pressing it back into the ground. "Just stay still." The dress sleeve would make a nice bandage. Now all she had to do was pull that wood out… She swallowed again. The wood was bright red with Jack's blood, and more of the stuff was oozing out of the hole by the second. _I've got to hurry._

She jogged to his leg and kneeled beside it, reaching out one sweaty palm to grasp his ankle. Jack made a stifled sound of pain as she lifted his leg into the air. _Ooh, ouch. _The wood piece protruded from the back of his leg. Biting her lip, she closed her eyes and tried to remember what Klei had told her about holding things with her mind.

_It takes as much energy as holding things with your hands, _he'd said. _Maybe even more, because your brain's a delicate instrument. _And that was really all she remembered. She knew how to do it, but it was the second and only other thing Klei had taught her before he'd left. Three years, and all she knew was telepathy and telekinesis. _Well, that's more than other people know. Wait—gotta focus._

Damaris imagined it. She imagined her hands wrapping around Jack's leg and keeping it firmly in place. When she opened her eyes again and released his leg, it stayed in the air, held aloft by her mind alone. She could still feel the strain in her arms, though, and although it wasn't much, she probably couldn't hold up his leg forever.

Reaching out, she grasped the end of the piece of wood and snapped it off, so that there was still wood plugging the hole, but nothing else. Gently, she let herself lower Jack's leg. As it touched the ground, she felt the mental strain vanish, and sighed in relief.

"Okay," she said. "I'm gonna pull this thing out. Jack, you—hey, Jack! Are you still conscious?"

The reply was hesitant. "Yeah. Yeah, I'm still here."

"Alright," she said. "There's a piece of wood in your leg, and I'm about to pull it out. Please don't kick me in the face, okay?"

Jack sighed in her mind. _You're not going to give up and run, are you?_

She reached out and held the wood in both hands, taking a deep breath and preparing herself. _Nope. Now get ready in three, two, one… Showtime._

With a jerk, she ripped the wood out of Jack's leg. He screamed once, kicking out and away from Damaris. The wound had splattered blood onto her face. Trying to quell her rising nausea, she held out her makeshift bandage and lifted Jack's leg onto her lap. He gasped, fingers clawing for purchase on cold stone. _I'm sorry; _she told him, extending the bandage and wrapping it tightly around his leg. The cloth was soaked in a matter of seconds, but she'd tied it as tightly as she dared and didn't want to re-wrap it. _I've got to assume it's tight enough._

She got up and moved to his face. Jack's eyes were screwed shut, and his face was covered in sweat; it rolled from his hairline and dripped from his chin. "Ah," he panted. "Oh, God."

"Do you think you can walk?" she asked. _Probably not, but he is right. The Brutes will be back…_

Jack's head swiveled to look at her. "No," he gasped. "You have to go."

"Well, I won't go without you."

He closed his eyes. "Then yes," he groaned, shifting his non-injured leg to his chest and pushing off the ground. As soon as his bloody leg touched the floor, he yelped and stumbled forward. Damaris rushed and caught him, pulling one arm so that it was wrapped around her shoulders.

"Alright," she said. "Lean on me." Most of his weight was on his stable leg anyway. _We can pull this off._

The other wall that had collapsed was the one leading out. She didn't have much time to reflect on their luck, because she had to get Jack over the rubble and that was a challenge. By the time they reached the corridor, both were panting. _This is going to be harder than I thought…_

And maybe it would be even harder than that, because Jack was tugging on her hair to get her attention. "Look," he rasped, nodding to the unconscious man in the cell across from theirs. The door had tumbled to the floor, but the man was still sleeping and couldn't know that he was free. "We can't just leave him behind," Jack told her, and she sighed.

_This game has too many variables._

* * *

Jack Williams had always preferred the nickname Raptor over his real name. Raptor gave the semblance of power, of majesty. When he pictured a raptor in his mind, he could see the elegant wingspan and the fierce yellow eyes. _Deadly, _that's what he saw in birds of prey. _Elegant and deadly._

When he'd taken up the name Raptor, he had not pictured himself huddling in a ball on his bed, shaking and generally carrying on. Of course, Raptor had never in his life imagined the sound that he had just heard. It was a deep sound, the roar of something that wasn't afraid of anything else in the whole fucking world. This whole fucking castle had gone bat shit when the thing started roaring, and Raptor had panicked.

It was safe to say that he did not panic often. Thieves who panicked got arrested, simple as that. Raptor was no second-rate thief, he was a professional. Yes, he'd gotten captured by one of those crazy jaw-things, but honestly? He had _not _expected one of those freaks to be lurking around. Seriously, it had just been standing in the doorway when he stepped into the room with the fancy looking doo-dad in it. It had grabbed him, he had failed to pull out his Swiss army knife in time, and he'd been taken to that weird old Baron.

Baron Alexander had discovered the thieving equipment in his bag, as well as the various valuable things Raptor had managed to nab from castle Brennenburg, including some kind of little golden statue and a small painting that sort of looked famous. Needless to say, the old man hadn't looked amused. He'd said something about "save him for later," and the jaw-thing had dragged him here. He'd been in this cell for a day or two at most, and was still not liking the whole "save him for later" thing.

And then, a little bit after he'd gotten here, that _thing _had started roaring and he'd panicked. He'd thrown himself on the bed and clutched his sheets like a frightened child, praying that, whatever it was; it would stay away from him. He imagined that something capable of making such a sound would be massively large, so he hoped it couldn't fit in the corridor outside his cell. Of course, it could always break down the walls until it got to him… he shuddered. What would something like that want with a lowly thief anyway?

It took a bit of work, but he managed to coax himself off the bed. _It stopped roaring, so it probably went away, _he thought, reaching one trembling leg towards the floor. One more leg and he was standing, although most of his weight was being supported by the bed. He shoved off and stumbled backwards, hitting the door with his back and sliding down until he was a little puddle of limbs and lanky frame.

He tilted his head back until it bumped against the door, and closed his brown eyes. "Augh," he moaned. "I am going to die down here. I am so going to die down here." The idea of being entombed below tons of rock, trapped in a tiny cell that would make a claustrophobic cry, did not appeal to him in the slightest. _Yeah, everybody has to die, but not everybody dies in a crap place like this. I don't want to be one of those people, please God don't make me one of those people…_

Raptor only realized that he'd been repeatedly slamming his head into the door when the ringing in his ears became so painful that he had to rock back and forth instead. _Oh Christ, I am so screwed._

"…thisisn'tworking…"

It was a soft fragment of a sentence, and for a moment he didn't even realize that it was a person who was speaking. When he did figure it out, his stomach twisted brutally and he scrambled away from the door, making for the bed. _Please don't let them find me, _he thought, sliding under and shutting his eyes tight. _I don't want to die._

Now he could hear loud footsteps, and a dragging sound. A pause, and then more dragging. Another pause, and then even more dragging. Another pause and this time a frustrated sigh. "We aren't getting anywhere, Jack." It sounded like a girl, around Raptor's ripe young age of 23.

"I… I know," a masculine voice replied. "But we can't leave him behind. He'll die."

"If you're about to start going on about me leaving you behind, the answer's still a big old no," the girl said. "And… hey_. _What's that?"

"What's… what?"

"Somebody's in that cell over there," the girl said. Raptor's eyes widened and he pressed himself further against the wall, beginning to tremble. _Leave me alone. Why can't you leave me alone?_

"I would leave you alone," the girl said. _Oh my God. _"But it seems a bit cold to just abandon you." A shadow covered the light coming through the bars of his cell. "Where are you, anyway?" There was a pause. "Oh, you're under the bed. You should come out. I don't bite."

_How the hell does she know all this?_

_ I can hear your thoughts, "Raptor," _a voice whispered, in his mind.

_I'm insane. I've snapped. This is it, I'm dead._

_ You're not insane, and you haven't snapped. _The voice sounded irritated. "It's me talking to you. Damaris Fatetin." He could hear someone rattling the bars locking him away. "You're not crazy, I'm just skilled."

Well, if she could legitimately read his freaking mind, hiding under the bed was somewhat pointless. Slowly, he crawled towards the light and got to his feet. A blue-eyes woman (Damaris, was it?) was peering through his little window. Raptor could see that she was supporting a man on one shoulder, and appeared to be supporting _another _man on the other shoulder as well. _That's probably taxing._

_ Pssh, _Damaris told him. _You have no idea._

He fidgeted, feeling self-conscious under her gaze. "What do you want?" he asked finally.

To his surprise, one of the men Damaris was supporting spoke up instead. "The name's Colonel Jack Remarc. We're here to let you out, okay?" He coughed. "Damaris. There's a knife in my boot. Can you get it?"

"Sure." She closed her eyes and her nostrils flared. He didn't see her bend down, but after a moment she nodded and said, "Got it."

"I don't suppose you know how to pick an old lock with a knife."

"Not really, but I can learn." Adopting a look of concentration, Damaris stooped over a little. Raptor could hear something scraping outside his door, and the sound of fabric rustling as Damaris and Jack shifted a little. He could see the other man a bit better now. He was unconscious, and a few tracks of dried blood ran down the side of his pale face. _Wonder what happened to him._

"Yeah!" Damaris crowed. And then, "Whoops. I broke your knife."

"It's alright," Jack said. "It happens. Did you unlock the door?"

"That I did," Damaris said, giving it a yank. "Why didn't you just use that trick on your own door?"

"No lock on the inside," Jack said, and fell silent. Raptor twitched as Damaris pulled the door open the rest of the way.

"Come out!" she said. "Don't be shy. We're just like you—trying to get out of here."

_But… but…_

_ Come on!_

He didn't know why he did it. He stumbled forward, towards Damaris and Jack and the unknown man. He reached them. He looked at their faces, both smiling weakly.

And he turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

* * *

Merrick Louis Taylor had been sleeping. It was rather hard to get some shuteye in this god awful hellhole of a castle, but he'd been managing well. And then that _fucking _noise had blasted the whole place, and he'd woken up with his face planted in stone and dust covering his entire body.

Erik (Merrick was too long to say, so Erik worked better) had not been pleased. Even now, as he was sitting up and leaning against the side of his ridiculously small cot, he tasted blood in his mouth. "Aw, damn," he moaned, licking his upper lip. Sure enough, the blood wasn't coming from inside his mouth, which meant… Tentatively, he reached up and touched his nose. A flare of pain spiked into his brain, and he let his head tip back, trying to stop the flow of blood. He wasn't bleeding too badly, actually, but he had no intention of letting out any more blood than he already had.

For about the fiftieth time, he wondered how William was doing. William, his adopted father and a knight of the crown, just like he was. Had William woken up in a panic because of the roaring, frightening noise? _Nah, _he decided. _William and I are tough. He's probably sitting around, chuckling at that attempt to scare him. That's all it was, just some noise to get us scared. Well, I'm not scared, so it's all good._

He touched his nose again, and this time only a bit of blood clung to his fingertips. _Alright. I'm fine._

He fiddled with his ring and scowled. It could turn into a picklock at the touch of a tiny button near the base, but what good was a picklock when he was trapped _inside _the cell? There were no locks in here, and it made all of his escape attempts pretty much pointless.

"I hate my life," he grumbled, licking a bit more excess blood from his lip.

"I hate my life!" a voice replied.

Erik was sitting upright in less than a second. The voice had come from outside his cell, and it had been filled with self-pity. He didn't really care _who _was out there… but if they could help him open the door, then it was all good.

"Why did I run?" the voice bemoaned. "They might've been able to help me… oh hell, what was I thinking?"

Staying close to the floor, Erik crept towards his door, rising until the top of his head was centimeters away from the window. His arm could fit through the bars just enough that this little plan might work… He heard the shuffling footsteps outside his door and closed his eyes. _Come on, just a little closer…_

"HAH!" He lunged forward, his arm straining towards the person bandying about outside. Fluidly, he wrapped his elbow around the neck of the man standing outside his cell and slammed the man's head into the metal bars. The man gave a choking sound and reached into his pocket, perhaps going for some kind of weapon. "Relax," Erik hissed, releasing the tension on the man's neck just enough so that he wouldn't choke. "I'm not trying to hurt you."

The man gave a cough which turned into a disbelieving laugh. "Yeah, _right_," he snapped, finishing his plunge into his pocket. A Swiss army knife was clutched in his palm. Erik paled.

_Wait for it… _ The man had flicked open the switchblade and was repositioning it in his hand. _Now. _Erik slammed his head into the metal bars again, and the man reflexively jerked his arm. The Swiss army knife fell to the floor with a clatter, and Erik grinned.

"Whoops, I lied. Guess I _did _have to hurt you. In my defense, you were gonna stab me." He was holding the man's neck a bit too tightly again, and the man could only wheeze in reply. _What am I doing? I don't want to kill him._

"Look," Erik said, pressing his head into the window so that only the bars were separating them. "I need you do to me a favor, and then I'll let you go. How does that sound?" He received a wheeze in reply, and loosened his hold on the man's neck just enough so that the poor bastard could breathe.

"What—what'll happen if I don't?" the man coughed, glaring at him with suspicious brown eyes that matched the color of his hair almost exactly.

Erik shrugged. "Then I won't let you go. And one of those monster things will show up and kill you. Time's a-wasting, Jim. Can I call you Jim?"

"My name's _Raptor_," the man said.

"Okay then," Erik said, slipping off his ring using his middle finger. "Raptor. See this ring?" He waved it in the air. "When I press this little button…" He pressed the button, and the bottom of the ring popped out to reveal a slim pole. "Presto, we've got ourselves a lock pick." He placed it on the sill of the window. "Pick it up and unlock my door. And if you drop it, I swear to God…"

Raptor was still glaring at him as he picked up the lock pick. Erik heard fiddling sounds, and then Raptor began to nod. "This is a good lock pick," he said grudgingly.

"How would you know? You've got a history with lock picks?"

"Of course," Raptor muttered. "I'm a thief. Best in the business, at least in Canada."

Erik wrinkled his nose. _A thief? So he's a shifty kind of bastard, is he? I'll keep my eye on him._

"Heh," Raptor said, and the door lock squealed once. "Got it." Erik grinned crookedly, grasping the door handle in his hands and pulling. The door swung inwards, and Raptor yelped as Erik let go of him and he tumbled to the floor.

Stepping out into the corridor was one of the best feelings Erik had felt in a while. That little cell had been so freaking cramped, it'd been driving him crazy. It was also pretty annoying how _no one had brought him food or water. _That too.

He knelt down beside Raptor, who had just begun to stir. "Thanks for your help, partner," he said, patting him on the shoulder and retrieving his lock pick. "I appreciate it."

Raptor made a face, getting to his knees. "Yeah, well—_shit."_

"What are you two _doing?"_

The voice had come from the end of the hall, where a dark-haired man was standing. In his hand was a rusty chain, with two manacles on either end. The chain didn't bother Erik, but the massive axe in the man's other hand did. "How many of you are going to escape?" the man continued, stalking forward. "First that bastard with the glass shards, then that girl with the violet eyes, and basically all the prisoners in cell block three. And now you two as well?"

The man's green eyes were rimmed with madness. "I have to stop this," he panted, raising the axe. "You must pay for your sins!"

Erik was not the type of person to run from a fight. Still, the fact that he was virtually unarmed and a psycho with a very large axe was coming towards him forced him to rethink his options a bit. His feet turned to run, and he _began _to run, and—

"Raptor, you fucking _moron!"_

Raptor, who had just begun to stand, was very much in Erik's way. So much in the way, in fact, that Erik had run into him, and the two of them fell to the floor. Erik tried to scramble to his feet, and felt a boot slam into his back.

"Oh, no," the man with the axe said. "Alexander never told me what _you _did, but I know it was bad. Alexander wouldn't lie to me." Erik felt the man grasp his wrist, and then the heavy weight of one of the manacles was weighing him down. He hissed in annoyance when the psycho axe man grabbed one of Raptor's arms and clamped the other end of the chain to him. _Oh, crap. I'm chained to this Raptor guy. This won't end well._

"Stand up," the axe man said. "Seeing as you two don't have the decency to remain in your prison cells, I'm taking you upstairs. Maybe a bit of _punishment _will change your minds about how _necessary _it is for you to go running around Brennenburg." Even as Erik and Raptor were getting to their feet, Erik could see the way the man's eyes were glinting in the dark.

"Can't you see that it's _dangerous _here?" he chuckled, swinging the axe gently back and forth.

_We are so screwed._


End file.
